She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. ” Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. ‘What would you? The nuns they would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay. Annabel, I was lying. They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying.
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